


houndofaldaron.blogspot.com

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blogging, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:25:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6182290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Huan keeps a passive aggressive blog and thinks everyone reads it for his philosophical essays rather than to keep up with gossip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. About the blogger

_~“Woof”~_

* * *

**About the blogger:**

Common misconception: Because I do not speak, I have nothing to say.  
Common misconception: Because I can only speak thrice, I will hold back my opinions and observations until those moments occur.

Reality: Speech is only one mode of expression. For that matter, speech in the tongue of Men and Elves is only one language. Other forms of expression exist; other languages – those of paw and tail and hoof and wing – exist.

And no one said anything about blogging.


	2. First Post - A note to my readers

Greetings from Beleriand, and welcome to my weblog. Tiring of silence and conscious of my position as ‘not your average doge’, I have created this as a chronicle of my experiences, musings, and meditations on life in Middle-earth. While I primarily intend to use this as a vehicle for thought-provoking essays and speculation on the nature of being, given the company I keep there is likely to be the occasional entry on the ‘shenanigans’ undertaken in this wild world we call life.

Especially since my companions have worse impulse-control and decision-making capabilities than your average squirrel, but are far better armed.  

If you are a Vala: Hey, Oromë, what’s up. I told you this would be quicker than updates via carrier pigeon. Also, I ate the carrier pigeon. (I may be a Hound, but I am still a dog.) Yes, I will keep you up to date on what your wayward acolyte gets up to.

If you are Celegorm: Friend. ‘Master.’ Don’t worry bro, some things stay between you and me; I may have a keyboard and an internet connection, but I also have discretion. For a given value of ‘discretion.’ Don’t do anything to be ashamed of, and you won’t have any cause to worry about being shamed herein. Simple enough.

If you are anyone else: Sit back and tighten your stirrups, because this is going to be a wild ride.

Faithfully,

H


	3. On the nature of invisibility, or: How one can be a gigantic, highly sentient hound of the Valar, and still get ignored

Have you ever noticed how people assume that because you do not speak, you cannot see/hear/smell/exist? How the assumptions of one’s presence can be entirely contingent on one’s ability to make one’s presence known by means of speech, by the ability to assert _Yes, I am here, I am a fellow being, I am worthy of your attention and notice._ I may be mute; I am not blind or deaf. I may be dog, but I am dumb, not Dumb.  And though my eyes close at times in weary contemplation, my hearing and smell are by no means impaired. I am, in fact, vastly perceptive, and just because you overlook _me_ does not mean I overlook _you_.

All of this is to say: I no more wish to witness your lovemaking than you wish to read about it here.

Please check the corners of the room before you get Up To Business.

Faithfully,

H

PS: Nice tan lines.


	4. A non-comprehensive list of things I am interested in discussing on this blog

Personal philosophies on the nature of service and man vs beast

Observations on the Beleriand political climate

Observations and analysis of interpersonal interactions concerning my master and his associates, as may be of interest to my followers

A final rundown on the ‘cooked vs uncooked meat’ debate

Metaphysics

Squirrels


	5. A non-comprehensive list of things I am NOT interested in discussing on this blog

When I will speak

What I will say when I do

The cousin taboo

Cute cat videos

Valar penis size

The prophecy thing


	6. The collar is a metaphor

_Huan_ , I am often asked – rhetorically, of course:  _if thou art indeed a being independent of thought, of great sagacity and spirit, a gift of the Valar themselves – then why wearest thou a collar?_

 _Huan,_ they inquire, _art thou not at least the equal of the First Born in wisdom and grace?_

 _Huan – why then wear thee their collar, why tread thee at their side like no more than the dumb and faithful creatures not of Valinor? Art thou indeed subservient?_  

To which I reply now: I am glad you asked.

To begin, I would ask that you not confuse the leather around my throat for the crude (and cruel) choke chains that adorn my lesser brethren, the poor and pitiable mortal hounds who pull at their leads at their masters’ sides. Never in my long years have I been restrained by leash or lead; never have I been tethered or bound or ‘brought to heel.’ No slave nor beast of burden am I.

The collar is a symbol. 

It is a symbol of the task with which I was charged: the protection and loyalty and love for one young devotee of my true Master. In faith and love I fulfill that charge, and I wear at my neck the collar that the Huntsman put on me himself when he spoke the words that compelled me to the side of the Elf now called Celegorm the Fair.

(Fair is a subjective judgment, of course, and epithets aside I beg my readers not to contemplate how an individual might _smell_ after a week on the hunt, and ‘fair’ is not the word I would use to describe it – but I digress. It is not for me to advise the Eldar on the benefits of deodorant, nor to make petty remarks on how they present themselves, even if it is in fashions that were out of date well before the Trees fell. And any olfactory or sartorial criticism is in all fondness for the smelly creature in question.)

The collar is a metaphor – for _service_ , not servitude. And I wear it with pride. 

That said, it itches worse than a hemorrhoidal asshole, which is why I had that weird fit during dinner and chewed it into pieces while making frantic whining noises. 

Don’t read too much into it.

Faithfully, 

H


	7. The banks of the Narog Fair, or: Why going for a swim and taking a bath are entirely different things

Listen, I don’t often lose my temper, but I’d like to defend myself for a moment. I’m going to ask that you not expect me to be as well spoken and refined as usual, because frankly, I am _riled._

To start: I did not bite anyone. No, no, I know what you are going to say, but _it did not break the skin_. In a moment of temper I may have lightly toothed a certain leg, but it was encased in clothing and leather boots, and my teeth barely made a dent. As I knew they wouldn’t! Because I wasn’t trying to bite him, I was simply trying to send a message. 

Secondly: I object in the strongest terms to allegations currently being _viciously_ lobbed around that refer to me as ‘reeking like a five days dead wolverine’ or ‘fouler than an Orcish a******e’. How honestly dare they? I occasionally emit a mild, musky odor. I occasionally become lightly begrimed with the fruits of my labor. Yes, those fruits might include offal and other intimate substances, but I assure you it is all part of the job. I am quite capable of shaking myself vigorously and ridding my person of such accessories. I AM A CREATURE OF VALINOR, I DO NOT REEK, I NEVER REEK. Also it takes one to know one, bub. 

Finally: If you persist in trying to throw me in a – pardon my language – _bathtub_ , you are going to get your arse bit. Excuse me, ‘warned.’

If any one of you bleeding, pointy-eared savages tries to dogsplain to me that _water is water, and don’t you love swimming in the river, this is no different_ , I shall have no choice but to become emphatic.

Capitals must be employed. 

SWIMMING IN A RIVER IS NOTHING LIKE TAKING A BATH IT IS NOT THE SAME THING YOU FECKLESS PLEBIAN

I shall enumerate why.

  1. I swim in the river by choice, and as an expression of joyful self-expression. I am thrown into the bath _against my will_.
  2. The river is wide and wild and full of excitement. The bath holds no such adventure. Throw in a frog or two, add a current, and peel the roof back – then maybe we can talk. Maybe.
  3. The river allows me to get cardiovascular exercise, to hop rock to rock, beat my tail against the current, dodge rills and explore eddies. The bath is a stagnant swamp in comparison. I wither, I atrophy.
  4. Breaststroking across the Narog is both valiant and admirable. Wallowing in a porcelain soup dish is _undignified_.
  5. Baths are hot. You really prefer _warm_ dog smell to cool and refreshing dog smell???????
  6. Soap.
  7. SOAP?????
  8. Seriously, I am going to bite you again.



Faithfully,

H

**Author's Note:**

> TBC.


End file.
